


Dear Diary

by Phoenix_Fairy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Deatheaters, Diary, Funny, I Don't Even Know, Mentioning of unicorns, Other, Parody, Rita Skeeter - Freeform, Timothy the Basilisk, Tom Riddle - Freeform, Tom Riddle's Diary, Voldemort can be a nice guy, Weird, although nobody seems to know it, but still nice, kinda a child, voldemort - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Fairy/pseuds/Phoenix_Fairy
Summary: Voldemort's really not as evil as everyone thinks. Thanks to Rita Skeeter, we're able to read his innermost thoughts, which he writes down in his diary.





	Dear Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta CMemlovr for reading all my stuff. Especially this one. Hihi  
> So folks, this is AU, and it’s gonna be *weird*. But look for yourself *runs away, evil laughing*

_Dear reader,_

_I, Rita Skeeter, world’s best journalist, have done it: I’ve managed to see into the mind of possibly the darkest wizard the world has seen (although he’s quite pale for a Dark Lord…). But that’s beside the point._  
_Due to my amazing skills, you, my dearest reader, can now read You-Know-Who’s darkest secrets and innermost thoughts, and why Lucius Malfoy’s hair always looks so perfect._

_Read about the most cruel wizards you have ever heard of; a man who tortured and murdered countless people, and whose cruelty and love for dark magic cannot be surpassed._

_Enter with me into a world nobody has ever seen before._

_Following this brief introduction, you have been given the chance to read the precise entries made by You-Know-Who in his personal diary._  
_Yes, diary._  
_At this point I want to thank a source who, unfortunately, needs to remain anonymous, since this person provided me with a special secret potion in order to be able to read someone’s mind for a short amount of time._  
_And all that without being a skilled legilimens!_

 _I took the liberty of keeping an eye on the dark wizard from time to time, and revealed his innermost thoughts._  
_Only Merlin knows where this article will lead our wizard world._  
_Pray for whomever you like, but pray for mercy, as it’s best not to tangle with this wizard._  
_But now, let’s get our wands, hold them tightly, and enter the world of darkness and evil magic._

 

_Location: Somewhere at Malfoy Manor, in one of the countless rooms. A pale man, clothed in black robes, and barefoot, is bent over a desk, scribbling into a small notebook._

“Dear Diary-”. A childish impulse overtook Voldemort as he hesitated, sucking gently on the end of his spell-check quill.  
“Damn that Potter brat, he was the reason I had to buy a new diary. Do you know how hard it is these days to get a good diary?  
My first one was a black one, with leather binding. It was a good diary.  
But these days, I can hardly stroll into Diagon Alley and check Flourish and Blotts for a diary, now _can I_??”

  
He had put so much pressure on the paper whilst writing those last words that he’d torn the page.  
Instead of a properly written ‘I’, an unpleasant-looking gash replaced the letter.

“Whatever, I digress. He destroyed my beloved diary.  
First, he stabbed it with a tooth from Timothy (that was my Basilisk, may he rest in peace).  
Then, he killed my basilisk by ramming the fucking sword from George Griffindohr into his mouth.  
Or wait, no. It can’t be George. The guy’s name was definitely stupid-sounding, though.”

Voldemort stopped writing, resting his chin on his left hand as he tried his hardest to remember the name of one of the founders of Hogwarts.  
Was it Cormac? Cornelius?  
His spell-checking quill shook a bit, but Voldemort couldn’t actually find a mistake in his writings.

No. He shook his head. It must have been something with a ‘G’.  
Gabriel?  
Garland?  
Granville?  
Gideon?  
Maybe it was Gilbert Griffindohr?

The quaking and quivering of his quill intensified.  
And then he suddenly remembered: the name was _Godric_ , not _Gilbert_ Griffindohr.  
More and more shivers ran through his quill. So there must be some important word somewhere in his writing that he’d completely mangled.

He _knew_ it.  
It was the word Griffindohr. But holy moly, _that_ was a difficult one.  
Maybe he should call for Lucius – he might be able to help with this.  
On the other hand, he couldn’t even remember how to spell his name: Lucius – Lucious – Luscious.

This was definitely the right moment to hold on to his usual solution for such incredibly stupid problems: he remembered and repeated his favourite expression.

_Capitalized, goddamn fucking WhateverTM_

He pulled his diary nearer to himself, trying several times to get the damn surname right.  
_Grifyndohr. Greyffindor. Gryffeyndor._  
_Bugger_ , too many letters.  
Again.  
_Groyfindor. Gryffindor_.

A crack made Voldemort flinch; looking down at his spell-check quill he saw that it had spontaneously self-destructed.  
Little bits of it lay scattered around the table.  
“ _Well, at least I got it right in the end_ ,” he thought.  
He threw the broken quill over his shoulder, not caring about it.  
Nermissa or how that woman of Luscious’ was called would take care of that room, ordering a house elf to clean it.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair, rifling through Luscious’ desk indiscriminately, and opening drawer after drawer, until he found what he was looking for.  
He took the new quill and continued writing.  
“Anyway. Poor thing, I really liked my pet. So, can you imagine how _brutally_ and prone to violence that kiddo was?  
Well, diary, let me tell you! First he murdered my poor baby Timothy in cold blood, and _then_ he stabbed my beautiful, black leather diary.  
It didn’t help that there was also a piece of my soul trapped in the damn thing.

I ask you who is that cruel at the age of twelve?! WHO? To make things worse, it’s not like he stopped there or anything.  
Noooo.  
I did a not-so-kind thing to that Weasley girl, and she was lying there, on the ground of the chamber, and what does he do? Unpack a first aid kit?

No.  
He sat next to her, stroking her hand.  
_Seems legit if she’s hovering between life and death_.

I mean, _come on_. Yeah, I’m cruel and all that stuff, and I like to see people suffer, but I bloody well know what to do if someone’s dying, and it sure as hell isn’t to _stroke their hands_.”

 

Voldemort shook his head in disbelief. The boy’s a dumbass, no question about it.

“You know, Diary, so many times I have tried to kill the boy. Not only because I want to see him dead but also because it’d be a blessing for all of mankind.  
Just imagine what that guy could and would do when he’s older?  
Can you imagine what he’d be like in his midlife crisis?  
I mean, if it got to me (though I dealt with it quite well, I think)…

I mean, I’m completely bald, but I also save inordinate amounts of money on beauty products (like conditioner and shampoo).”

 _“I do like to splurge on Colgate extra white, though. Your teeth really are your best friends, but that’s not the point,_ ” he thought.

“But I’m alone. Sure, I’ve got my Death eaters, but they’re not here all the time.  
‘You know, the job, the wife’, ‘oh my Dark Lord, I cannot attend the meeting next Tuesday because I’ve got to pick up my daughter from kindergarten’, ‘oh my Master, this Saturday’s quite bad to meet, Waitrose has chardonnay at half price!’, and so on and so forth.

What do they think?  
That I’m as busy as them, so it’s okay to cancel and postpone our nice meetings?  
I am the Dark LordTM and still I have no friends.  
Except Luscious. He’s my mate (In a sniveling, servile sort of way, sure). He and his wife Nermissa.  
Don’t know what I should think of their son, Dergon, or whatever his name is. (I will draw a picture of my friends so that you can see what they look like!)  
Looks as if he uses too much bleach on his hair.

Poor guy, I mean, he likes it now, but in ten years’ time?  
Well, just look at his father’s hair – everyone knows that bleaching the hair for such a long period of time damages the hair’s structural integrity! (Probably.)

Even if Lucius thinks nobody knows, he can’t hide it from me.  
I see him straightening his hair nearly every morning.  
He can’t even leave the house without doing it, his hair is so bushy.

Oh my. Amateurs, all of ‘em. Anyway, here they are!”

Voldemort shook his head, as he had done so often this evening while writing, and closed the diary.

“ _Enough writing for today._ ”  
  
He nodded in agreement with his thought and protected the diary with some of his dark security spells – you never know who’d be so stupid as to sneak in to try and get a hold of his diary – I mean, just think of the Weasley girl, after all.

He stood up and left the room.

 

 

_A few weeks later…_

Voldemort sat again at the big wooden desk in Malfoy Manor, updating his diary with the latest events.

“Dear Diary, bad news.  
My friends told me that we will have to have The Final BattleTM at Hogwarts during our last meeting.  
Unfortunately, attendance is mandatory. *sigh*

It looks like I’m going to have to kill the Boy-Who-Lived-and-refuses-to-fricking-die.  
We’ve had so many meetings these last few weeks that I haven’t had the time to write, so here it goes: As you know, I’ve always had a bit of trouble with Harry – my Death Eaters and I seem unable to just kill him.

It’s one of the problems with agreeing to a contract with Dumbledore without reading the fine print, y’know?  
God, I hate that guy. I should never have signed the blasted thing 17 years ago,” Voldemort buried his head in his palms in embarrassment.

How had he allowed himself to do something so stupid?! “I can kill the boy (or at least try to do so)” – Voldemort knocked on the wooden table- “and in exchange I’ve got to attend a course led by Dumbledore, just for me.

“The Power of Love – why the pale Slytherin guy wasn’t able to touch the Boy-who -lived-but-then-died and what all the fuss about Snape and Lily is about”

So far so good, more or less. But the small print said that when I want to fight, I have to wait until the end of a school year as Harry’s education matters.  
I’m not even allowed to kill him until The Final BattleTM.

Ye gods and little fishes, what else shall I do?  
Give him private tuition so that he’s good enough in Defense Against the Dark Arts so that our fight will be one of equals?” Voldemort rolled his eyes.

That simply wasn’t fair. It had taken him _years_ to gather his Death Eaters (dumb though they were), and years and years of Servio Snake being a fake-teacher-spy.  
Though he was grateful that his most faithful servant was working only for him, he hated that Snape never had time for him any more – he was always at Hogwarts, avoiding suspicion.  
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought him tacos, like he used to.  
Bellatrix was, thank Merlin, a better choice concerning food delivery. She liked to surprise him; with spaghetti and shrimps, Mexican finger food, and sometimes even kebab, although he _hated_ onions in a kebab.

Never mind.

“Oh, oh, I have another example when it was unfair for me!  
Remember the fourth year in Hogwarts? No?  
It was the year when everybody had the _worst_ hair.  
The Weasley twins, Harry, Ron, and all the kiddos, looked like they’d missed one too many appointments at the barber’s.

Only that Russian guy looked O.K. Or was he Serbian? I don’t remember.

Merlin I was happy to see Cerderic gone from the competition.  
Some of my finer work, if I do say so myself. The guy was a whiner.

I also liked Dergon being a ferret more than being Dergon himself. Haha. Dumb kiddo.  
I don’t understand why he’s so into nature; he thinks he looks _so cool_ when he sits in trees and jumps down from them.  
What a loser.  
I swear, I heard him crying, and running to his father because he sprained his ankle when he jumped from that tree. And he always uses the pathetic line “my father will hear about this”. Brat, you can tell your father that you’re too damned stupid to jump properly!  
I mean, come on! Is he some kind of hippy-dippy child of Mother Nature?  
What is up with him?  
Never mind, I digress.

Anyhow, speaking of this Duo Wizard Competition or whatever the hell it was called, did you know that the cup was plastic?  
I mean, the ministry really is made up of cheapskates!

So, remember I told you about the meetings? We’re gonna meet in 3 months, 2 and a half weeks and 6 days (I counted it on my calendar!).  
Our plan is to surround Hogwarts, myself and my friends will be waiting in the Forest.  
Personally, I can’t stand the place – it could use sprucing up; get rid of some spiders here, some unicorns there.

To be fair, the only thing I have against unicorns is that they are so _soft_. I just want to cuddle them, but I can’t do it with everyone watching!

So, yeah, when nobody is expecting it, we’re gonna run towards the castle, screaming and all scary-like.  
Hope this will help us to win this war.  
If not, I can still move to Albania, from what I remember, it wasn’t terrible. Nice country, I must admit.

Oh, I forgot: We’re meeting at 5.10 in the afternoon. Gotta write that down, otherwise I’ll forget.

And now, Diary, I’ve gotta go. Bellatrix seems to be finished with cooking, and hell you know how mad that woman can get if you leave her waiting. Bye.”

 

_Editorial note:_

_Thanks to my detailed coverage of You-Know-Who’s movements, the wizarding world has been freed from his reign once more.  
Without my hard work, my dear reader, we would not have had the knowledge of You-Know-Who’s plans in advance – which was, you’ll admit, an undeniable advantage! _

_Thanks to my brilliant investigation, we were able to put a stop to the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who himself before they’d ever had a chance to meet. All known Death Eaters have since been eliminated._

_Except Severus Snape._  
_He’s a hot guy, but ladies, don’t hold out any hope of making him yours._  
_Anonymous sources have informed me that there is already a woman in his life; one able to deflect his usual sarcasm and biting wit, and has the “intelligence and courage” to give as good as she gets from him._  
_Yes, Miss Hermione Jean Granger (for whom I have little admiration), now Mrs. Hermione Jean Snape, has never looked happier._  
_And now, my dear reader, we must part._  
_I will not be heard from for the next four weeks, as I will be taking a well-earned holiday, because Merlin do I deserve it!_  
_Working undercover to unearth You-Know-Who’s most intimate thoughts was stressful work, and so I will consider continuing with more detailed coverage on my return from Maui._

 

_Rita Skeeter_

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this weird, but funny story, let me know :)


End file.
